by Victor Kloss
Ben pulled the trigger.
A black spell the size of a tennis ball cannoned into Charlie. Immediately Ben turned his spellshooter and fired the second spell into his own chest. It was like being punched – the impact made him grunt. He barely had time to recover, when he felt ice coursing through his veins, freezing his entire body. His stomach started groaning, and he started to feel sick and dizzy. Somehow he managed to stagger into his sleeping bag, where he rolled up, shivering, just about resisting the urge to vomit. He was dimly aware that Charlie was doing the same. The icy feel receded, but the dizziness got progressively worse, until he started seeing black spots. He blinked, and he found his vision starting to blur. Dimly, he was aware that he was losing consciousness. With a cry of pain and confusion, Ben slipped away.
— Chapter Twenty-Four —
The Void
When Ben came to, he found himself lying on his back, staring up at a red canvas. For a terrifying thirty seconds, he struggled with his own identity. It was only when he sat up and saw the chubby boy beside him that something clicked, and his memory came flooding back.
Charlie sat up a moment later with a similar blank expression, which also disappeared the moment he spotted Ben.
They had made it.
Realisation dawned on them quickly. They scrambled to their feet, and instinctively went back to back in a defensive position.
Ben half-expected something to jump out at them, and he immediately scanned the area for signs of danger. The sky was blood red and streaked with black. The landscape was dry, barren, and devoid of life. They found themselves on a narrow dirt path, which wound its way through the thin, wispy grass that surrounded them. The grass swayed gently, despite the lack of wind. Next to them was a leafless tree. Its trunk was scarred and much of the bark was gone.
“Roolers,” Charlie said, pointing at the red sky. “I bet they’re waiting for us.”
Ben looked up and saw a couple of large birds circling at such altitude they were hard to make out except for their long, hooked beaks.
“They’re like vultures, except they feed on the dying as well as the dead. They specialise in targeting the wounded.”
Ben allowed himself to relax, just a fraction. Bar the roolers, they were alone. In fact, the place was so dead and barren, it felt like they were the only people alive.
“The dwarf mage must have done his research,” Charlie said, who also seemed less on edge. “We are on the southern path – one of the least dangerous places in the void, simply because nobody bothers coming here. There are no resources, and the land is worthless. The trouble will come as soon as we start heading north.”
Charlie stared down the path into the distance.
Ben knew they would have to get going soon, but questions were exploding inside his head like fireworks. “You look exactly like your body, down to the clothes you were wearing this morning. You’ve even got the brooch.”
“The brooch physically transferred from home into the void,” Charlie said. “As for the physical representation, that is something our minds mock up subconsciously.”
“I’ll take your word for that,” Ben said, running a hand through his hair. It felt real enough. “So, now what? This is where the dwarf mage started, right? I don’t see a trail anywhere.”
Charlie was staring hard at the path. “It’s there, somewhere.”
The dirt path looked well walked, but Ben could see nothing to indicate the dwarf mage had been here. Charlie, however, got down on his hands and knees so that he was at eye level with the dirt.
“Aha! Got you,” Charlie said.
As far as Ben could see, Charlie was pointing a finger at a random blade of dead grass.
Charlie waved at Ben, still staring avidly at the grass. “Come here and look. It’s obvious when you see it properly.”
Ben got down and joined Charlie. “What am I supposed to be looking at? That piece of grass looks like all the others.”
“You’re not looking hard enough. Remember, a lot of what happens here is to do with your mind. We’re looking for a trail, and we know it’s here. So tell the path to reveal it.”
Had Ben not been so used to the way spellshooters worked, he would have laughed. Instead, he did as Charlie suggested, and envisioned the trail created by the dwarf mage. Almost immediately the small blade of grass Charlie was staring at turned red. The moment it did so, the strand behind it also changed colour. In the blink of an eye, a thin line of grass followed suit, like a cascading set of domino pieces. Ben looked up and saw a slender red trail in the centre of the path, going off into the distance.
“Well, that’s one problem solved,” Ben said, smiling for the first time since they entered the void. “Let’s get going.”
Ben wanted to set a good pace, knowing they had only twenty-four hours, but Charlie seemed reluctant to match it. To make matters worse, they had no way to track the time. Ben had hoped there might be a sun or a point of reference to use. Charlie, however, didn’t seem concerned.
“Look at your brooch,” he said.
Ben did so. There was a small sliver of red at the bottom, as if someone had coloured in the metal with a very fine paintbrush.
“Eventually, the whole brooch will turn red. When it does, the brooch will break, and we’ll be stuck here,” Charlie explained.
“How do you know that?” Ben asked. “I was with you when we bought them. The shaman never gave any instructions.”
“Not surprising,” Charlie said with a shrug. “I think he wants us to die here. It’s something I read up on. A lot of artefacts work for only a set amount of time or have a limited number of uses.”
It was the first of many times Ben counted himself lucky for choosing Charlie. He was used to his friend being a walking library, but for this trip he had taken it to a new level.
“So, I’m guessing there’s a reason you’re walking like a tortoise?” Ben asked.
Charlie nodded. “Yes, a good one. We need to take advantage of the fact that, right now, nobody is trying to kill us.”
“Take advantage how?”
Charlie gave a sudden smile. “By practising. Let me show you.”
Charlie suddenly ran forwards, jumped and performed an aerial forward somersault. He almost pulled it off but overcooked the landing.
Ben couldn’t have been more surprised if Charlie had sprouted wings.
“That was insane! How did you do that?”
Charlie got up, and dusted his hands. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I read about it in the library. Remember what I told you about the void? You are limited only by your mind, not your body.”
A huge grin spread over Ben’s face as Charlie’s explanation sunk in. “You mean kind of like the Matrix?”
“Basically, yes. But you still have to have the knowledge for what you’re doing. You can’t automatically be a grand master of Kung Fu. You have to learn it first.”
“Uh huh,” Ben said, but he was barely listening. His attention had turned to the path in front of him, and he was rubbing his hands. “So, I should be able to do a somersault as well, right?”
“Absolutely,” Charlie said. “But you can’t just believe it or think it. You have to know it, with utter certainty. That’s the tricky part.”
Ben turned his attention back to the path, undeterred. “Right. So I need to get rid of the picture in my mind of me landing on my head.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to work.”
Ben cleared his mind and envisioned a perfect forward somersault. But when he tried to jump, his natural survival instinct made him hesitate.
“You don’t have that certainty,” Charlie said, smiling with amusement.
“It’s harder than I thought,” Ben admitted. “How did you do it?”
“I’ve been training my mind for the last few days for these conditions. Plus, I read it in a book that I trusted.”
Ben looke
d slightly affronted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Charlie shrugged. “Because I know how quickly you’ll adapt and how good you’ll be, and frankly, I didn’t want you flying round like superman while I tried to catch up.”
Ben turned back to the path. “Okay, I can do this. What’s the big deal? It’s only a somersault. I’ve done them loads of times on trampolines and into swimming pools.”
“Not exactly the same thing, but I’m listening,” Charlie said.
“Are you trying to make this harder on purpose?”
Charlie was clearly enjoying himself. “Sorry. Keep encouraging yourself. I’ll shut up.”
Ben rocked back and forth, like a long-jumper attempting a super human leap. He ran and then jumped, throwing his head forwards. As soon as he saw the ground above his head, he knew he was in trouble, and promptly landed on his face. He got up, rubbing his forehead. The pain spurred him on, rather than acting as a deterrent. Three more times he tried and, with each attempt, his jump became a little bigger, the somersault a little more complete. On the fourth effort, he landed it cleanly.
Ben pumped the air. “Yeah!”
Charlie had also succeeded in a complete somersault, and they spent several minutes practising more complicated moves, until they both looked like professional gymnasts.
“What else can we do?” Ben asked.
“Technically, anything,” Charlie replied. “But the harder the feat, the harder it will be to execute it, as your mind will naturally insist it can’t be done.”
Ben glanced around. The large birds – roolers – were still circling, but they posed no danger at present. A sweeping glance around the dead landscape revealed no other threat, but Ben was aware that could change any moment.
“What happens when we run into something that wants to kill us?” he asked. “Our athletic skills are cool, but we can’t somersault someone to death.”
Charlie nodded, suddenly becoming serious. “We need magic. That’s the tricky part. Technically we should be master wizards – after all, there are no limitations to what we can do. But from what I read, it can take days to get anywhere.”
Ben clenched his fist. “We don’t have days. We have hours. So, can we just envision a fireball coming out of our behind, and it will happen?”
“Technically, yes, but it won’t work.”
Charlie was right, as usual. Ben tried to picture a small flame coming out of his backside, but the only thing that passed was a bit of wind. He tried something a bit more practical: opening his palm, and envisioning a small flame. Again, nothing.
“Am I missing something?” Ben asked, after a few minutes of staring at his hand.
“Your mind naturally rejects the idea of doing magic, because it’s so unnatural. Even in the Unseen Kingdoms, you don’t actually do magic; you use a spellshooter for that.”
“Well, I can’t summon a spellshooter, because that would take magic, which my mind isn’t happy about,” Ben said, getting slightly frustrated.
“No, but I think we have more chance of that over having a flame appear, because our mind is used to the concept of a spellshooter,” Charlie said. “It’s worth a go. If we are going to arm ourselves, we should do it now, before we encounter trouble.”
Ben and Charlie dived into the challenge. For the next half an hour, they stood there, trying to clear their minds and summon spellshooters. In some ways, it was easier than the somersault, as there was no pain with failure. But it was one thing to make your body perform acrobatics; it was entirely another to summon a piece of matter from thin air.
“I’m exhausted,” Charlie said, wiping his brow. “And we’ve barely moved a muscle.”
Ben glanced at his brooch. Another sliver of red was now showing. How long had they been here? An hour? Probably more. He re-doubled his efforts, blasting aside doubts and irritating thoughts that kept crossing his mind. He knew it was possible – but possible wasn’t enough. He had to know it with absolute certainty. This isn’t Earth, he kept telling himself. Stop thinking about its rules.
“I saw something!” Charlie exclaimed, making Ben jump.
Charlie was staring intently at Ben’s hand. There was nothing there.
“It was only there for a second, but I definitely saw a flicker of a spellshooter.”
Knowing he had made something appear gave him the last bit of confidence he was missing. He glanced down at his hand, and willed the spellshooter to materialise. This time he saw it – a transparent flicker of something that looked like a gun. His heart leapt, and Charlie grinned.
“You’re close. Keep going.”
But he wasn’t as close as he hoped. Time and again he tried, and though the spellshooter slowly started to become more solid with each attempt, it never stayed for more than a second or two. And as the frustration settled in, even that solidity started to fade.
“Take a breather,” Charlie said.
They sat down on the dirt path. It was hot, Ben realised – hot and dry – which just added to the general unpleasantness of the void.
The dust on the horizon appeared just as he was starting to relax. He squinted, making sure his eyes weren’t playing a trick on him.
“Do you see that?” Ben asked.
Charlie’s face was suddenly creased with worry. “I see it. I hope it’s just the wind.”
What wind? Ben wanted to say. Within a couple of minutes, Ben could make out the faint outline of a group heading their way, kicking dust up on the path as they went.
They were moving fast.
Ben and Charlie scrambled to their feet.
“No pressure, but now might be a good time to make that spellshooter appear,” Charlie said, his voice shaking a little.
Ben tried again. Nothing happened, not even a flicker. He grit his teeth and tried again. Nothing.
“You’re panicking,” Charlie said.
“Can you blame me?”
“No, but somehow you need to relax, otherwise it’s never going to happen,” Charlie said in a voice that was anything but relaxed.
Ben glanced towards the dust in the distance and he cursed.
“Oh my,” Charlie said, his voice a terrified whisper.
They were close enough to make out now: goblins, at least a dozen of them, running hard and heading their way. Ben calculated no more than a couple of minutes and they would cross paths.
“Should we run or hide?”
“Neither,” Ben said, clenching his fists and snarling in a manner more suited to the creatures approaching them.
He took a deep breath, necessity giving him a sudden urgency. He flexed his right hand, and willed – demanded – the spellshooter to appear.
The handle materialised in the nook of his palm and he clamped down on it, solid contact making it real. He glanced down, and saw a perfect replica of his B2 in his hand, right down to the silver trimmings running down the barrel.
“Thank god for that,” Charlie said, wiping his brow. “Now what?”
The goblins were now so close he could count them – fourteen in all. There was fear in their eyes. No, not fear, Ben realised, but terror.
The goblins weren’t running towards them, but away from something else. Ben glanced behind the goblins, but he saw nothing.
One of the goblins screamed suddenly and went down, green blood flowing from a gaping wound. The other goblins cried out. They glanced at their fallen comrade, and ran all the harder.
Ben stared in shock. What had attacked the goblin? Ben had seen nothing, yet something had clearly taken a chunk out of the goblin’s arm.
Suddenly, the idea of running didn’t sound like such a bad one.
“Over here,” Ben said.
He ran over to a dead tree on the side of the path, and they both hid behind the trunk. Ben raised his spellshooter. Charlie was right: having a spellshooter made casting spells a lot easier, simply because he was so used to it. He fired a
couple of spells into his chest and at a flinching Charlie. The shield and shadow spells were strong, and Ben felt his body ripple as the spells took effect.
Charlie was peeking out from the tree, his hands shaking on the trunk. “Did you see that goblin go down? Something is out there. Something that—”
Charlie was still talking when another goblin went down in a bloodied heap, making them both jump. The goblins were less than fifty yards away; yet again, Ben saw nothing. Whatever was picking them off was either invisible or extremely good at killing. Probably both.
Ben quickly pulled back behind the tree as the goblins approached, their screams and pounding of feet reaching a crescendo. And then they were past, still running hard, without so much as a glance their way. Ben could see the terror in their eyes as they ran, and it made him shiver. He watched to see if any more would fall before they disappeared out of sight. None did.
They stayed behind the tree for a full minute, trying to regain some semblance of calm. Ben kept staring at the fallen goblin nearby, lying in his own blood. Occasionally he twitched and let out a weak groan. Ben had an overwhelming desire to help, even if it meant putting the goblin out of its misery.
The demon that materialised seemed to fade smoothly into existence like a video game animation. It must have been close to seven feet tall, with leather skin that was as red as the sky. There were small horns coming out of his forehead and a tail that looked as though it could double as a whip.
The demon was idly poking the squirming goblin with its clawed feet.
“Perfectly cooked,” it said in a hissing voice, a snake-like tongue flicking out as it spoke.
